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I rolled my eyes—I’d had this argument many times. Plain cheese pizza lovers were often the subject of scorn. “I love just cheese. It’s a very underrated topping on its own, you know,” I said, not at all bothered by his negative reaction. Everyone reacted that way.
“It’s boring as fuck,” he replied as he pulled up the number for a pizza place.
“Are you saying I’m boring?” I asked jokingly but was only half joking. He probably did think I was boring considering the life he led. I considered myself boring and it was my life.
Well, until recently.
He looked up from the phone, his green eyes heated and intense. “You’re about as far from fucking boring as it gets, Emmy.”
My cheeks flushed and he ordered the pizza.
He grabbed a beer and sat on the other side of the couch, keeping a careful distance between us. “Okay, it should be here in about an hour. In the meantime, we need to come up with a plan for you. You can’t go back to your dorm room.”
My eyes widened in shock, and I took a huge sip of my beer, nearly choking on the unpleasant taste. What the hell was this stuff? I looked at the bottle—IPA. God, who knew there would come a day I would pine for a Miller Lite?
“What do you mean, can’t go back? Of course, I’m going back.”
His jaw tensed as he shook his head. “No fucking way, Emmy. I’m not letting you go back to that room without protection and I’m not staying in a fucking college dorm room with your roommate.”
My mouth dropped open, practically unable to process what he was suggesting. He couldn’t possibly mean for me to stay here, with him.
My mind briefly flashed to earlier that evening when he’d been so cold, so cruel. When I’d cried all the way home. I tipped the bottle of terrible beer back and chugged half of it as my mind raced. Did I want to open myself up to feeling that again?
I lowered the beer and stared at him intently. “Where am I going to stay?”
“Here.” His lips tightened, as if he already regretted what he’d just said, but he never looked away, never removed his emerald eyes from mine as he waited for my reaction. I asked myself again, did I want to do this? Put myself in such precarious, emotional jeopardy?
I stared at those lips again, remembering how they roved over my body—biting, kissing, marking my skin—giving me pleasure and intimacy I’d never imagined. Did I want it again?
Hell yes.
Chapter 24
Ivan
I stared at her grimly, unable to believe the words that kept coming out of my mouth. My brain would think one thing, then I’d open my mouth and say something completely different.
What the fuck?
What was I thinking telling her she was going to stay with me? In my mind, I had intended to tell her she couldn’t stay in her dorm, she needed to stay somewhere safe, probably Hannah and Nikolai’s place.
But that was sure as fuck not what came out of my mouth. In yet another instance of my body going rogue, I invited her to stay with me, knowing full well what would end up happening.
I took another long sip of my beer to wet my suddenly dry throat.
Her tongue reached out and swiped at the drops of beer on her lower lip. I couldn’t tell if there was actually beer there or if she was being seductive as fuck. Whichever it was, it was working on me, because heat started to flicker and burn in my veins. I clenched my fist around the bottle, trying to curb the urge to drag her into the bedroom.
She raised an eyebrow, giving me a knowing look. “Here?”
I nodded, again betraying my screaming mind, as she took another sip of her beer, her tongue reaching out to catch stray drops from the lip of the bottle.
My breath caught in my throat as I watched her tongue swipe the tip of the bottle. My dick throbbed jealously as I watched her tongue maneuver over amber glass.
“Emmy…” I said, warning in my voice.
She raised her dark brows innocently. “Yes?” she replied innocently, rubbing the lip of the bottle against her lower lip.
What the fuck? We’d been here five fucking minutes. It was like the simple act of her being in my apartment and sitting on my couch was an aphrodisiac, then add how she was practically giving that beer bottle a blow job—how was I supposed to ignore that?